


Bitter

by captainhurricane



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, major phantom pain spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never wanted to see him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> SpOILERSs

”Did you hear?”

”He’s returned!”

”Big Boss!”

 

It’s the only thing the entire unit has been talking about for days now. The year 1992 has rolled onwards as years tend to do and overseen the return of Big Boss as FOXHOUND’s leader. The headquarters, as always, are bustling with life, the gym filled with trainees and punching bags, running feet and sparring partners. And a certain Master Miller who threw aside his old name when he realized peace would never be seen in the world in his lifetime. Not after all the betrayal and pain. Years hadn’t been kind to him and hadn’t made him any kinder- or lessened the bitter taste in his mouth. His glasses hide the ghostly white of his eyes but his sleeveless shirt doesn’t hide the stump of his arm. Even years after losing his arm, he hadn’t opted for a prosthetic. Choosing to instead live on with the phantom pain that had become a dull ache at the back of his head instead of the sting it had been at first. It reminds me of all I’ve lost, he says if someone asks. Generally nobody does.

 

”Again!” He yells at the recruits when a few of them stumble in their steps and one gets punched in the face. Today Miller is standing straighter, his new leg prosthetic working finer than the last, keeping the balance. His cane still resting against the wall in his office, ready if needed. His joints ache from the chill of late autumn but he ignores it. He’s lived with enough aches for years.

 

The recruits act, take their positions. The steady sounds of bare feet on the mats could almost be called calming. Miller observes, yells another order. The recruits freeze, muscles straining in their uncomfortable positions. Despite his missing limbs, Master Miller isn’t known for being kind to recruits. You can’t ever tell what he’s thinking anyway, what’s with those glasses of his.

 

What Miller never tells anyone is that the doctors, every doctor he’s seen is certain he’ll be completely blind by the age of fifty. The torture he suffered over ten years ago had only been the beginning of a lifetime of losing things but now it seems he’ll end his life useless as well. Despite the name change- Kazuhira never seems to fit anymore, that was a life of betrayal- and the change of country, America isn’t a home. Nowhere is home.

 

Sometimes Miller still thinks he can smell the ocean.

 

”Again!” He shouts, shakes himself out of his thoughts. Futile, Miller. Useless. The past is past and all it’s given you is loss.

 

But the recruits have frozen again, each scrambling to straighten themselves and slam their hands against their foreheads in hasty salutes.

”Boss!”

It’s Miller’s time to freeze. He should have stayed in the dark, working for his heaven, letting his phantom take the blame and honour for every deed. Yet here he is, strolling inside with a cigar in his mouth and his trench coat flapping around his ankles. He’s gotten greyer, the silver now intertwined with brown. Miller only glances at him, would cross his arms if he could. He says nothing.

”I see you’re doing good work here, Master Miller,” Big Boss speaks and his voice rumbles pleasantly. It’s scratchier and lower than before. Miller hasn’t heard that voice in a long time.

”Indeed,” he says and stares straight ahead. Leave, he thinks. Leave.

 

The recruits still haven’t moved, all of them wide-eyed. The sheer worship in their faces irritates Miller incredibly. He’s not worth it, he wants to say, through gritted teeth and with his hand forming a fist. He’s a man only worth of his codename. I had a home, I had a family, I had our paradise and our future and he took it all away with one lie.

”Do continue with your training,” Big Boss continues, his tone pleasant. A puff of smoke appears from the corner of Miller’s eye.

”But I will be borrowing your trainer for a moment, I think him and I need to have a little chat.”

”There’s nothing to talk about,” Miller says, his nails digging into his palms. Why? It’s been years and still his throat is dry, his heart too loud. The effect Big Boss has always had on him hadn’t gone away- the distance, the absence only making it stronger. It’s hard to breathe. Miller wavers, flinches when a hand clad in a black glove grabs his arm.

”Steady now, Master Miller.” Kaz. It was Kaz. Whispered or spoken or murmured. Gentle or amused. The phantom had spoken his name like that too and Miller had fallen for it.

”Don’t touch me,” he says, snaps his arm back. The recruits glance at each other, full of curiousity and wonder.

 

What Miller wouldn’t give to be one of them, to be something so simple and righteous like a FOXHOUND soldier. Not this mess that he is, this hurricane held in slender muscles and eyes that get blurrier every day.

 

”I think it’s better if the class is dismissed for today.”

”But boss-” one hopeful recruit pipes up. Miller doesn’t see Big Boss’ face, wonders if he’s smiling.

”Dismissed.” Still that same calm tone. Miller wills his anger to resurface, digs up two decades worth of resentment. Unwilling, he leads Big Boss to his tiny office instead, doesn’t close the door behind them. Silence falls. Big Boss stumps his cigar. Miller watches his hands, watches the gloves come off to reveal the hands he knows in thorough detail.

 

”Kaz,” Big Boss says and becomes Snake as Miller knew him years before. Takes him to the past with just one word, with just one hand reaching for him. Miller takes a wavering step back, his back meets the door that bangs closed.

”Don’t. I don’t go by that name anymore.” He refuses. He refuses to look.

”I heard,” Snake says. (John, Miller had whispered during their nights, their evenings. John, John-)

”No longer a believer of peace, are you?” Now that makes Miller raise his head, defiant and annoyed. He bites his lip when he doesn’t see a shred of the same anger he feels in Snake’s face.

”And you should know why,” Miller spits out, slapping Snake’s hand away.

”It’s all your fault!” His hand is shaking, fist uncurling. Snake has grown older, visibly older. Yet sharper somehow, like a weapon polished for the final act. The sight of him makes Miller’s head throb with sheer longing.

 

No matter how many girlfriends and potential wives he’s gone through, never have they been able to catch his heart with the same ease as Snake.

”It was necessary,” Snake says and this time he pushes, his calloused fingertips rough on Miller’s cheek.

”Kaz.” That name again, that one syllable slithering through the knots in Miller’s stomach. No. Kazuhira Miller is dead and gone in flames, McDonell Benedict Miller is in his place. And he doesn’t share the same longing. He refuses.

”You traitorous, poisonous- you truly live up to your name, huh, Snake?” Miller swallows, tries to withdraw even more but Snake’s other hand has slipped to his waist. Even with his prosthetic, Miller feels his balance wavering.

”I’ve been called worse,” Snake says, quiet, almost sad. He had spoken through his phantom so often the two had blended in Miller’s head to become one and the same. Like heaven and hell had blendedto become on and the same- a god-forsaken parallel to the unwanted feelings this man still manages to bring up.

 

”You ruined me,” Miller spits out, struggling to find words because Snake has leaned closer, thumb caressing his cheek.

”Kaz,” is all Snake says, the love on his tongue nothing but a lie. Yet- Miller shivers, the great, fearsome Master Miller reduced to nothing but a choked out sound when Snake kisses him.

”I-” Miller manages, pushes Snake away. Breathes hard.

”I hate you. I want you dead and gone.” He doesn’t look at Snake’s face, not at his eye. That steely gaze reducing anyone to a mess.

”One day,” Snake says and he forces another kiss, open-mouthed and desperate. Miller gasps. He doesn’t want to admit that years and years without Big Boss had made him darker, his future bleaker. He doesn’t want to admit the jealousy, the bitterness, the grief that he hadn’t been considered important enough for the plan to be revealed. Had instead been played for a fool. He should hate Snake for life, want to see him burn but for some god-forsaken reason, he can’t forget that there was a time when he would have happily walked into hell with him.

Snake’s hand around his waist and on his cheek are warm and rough. Miller grabs the other, keeps his grip tight but to keep the hand there or wrench it away, he doesn’t know.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think we ever get a mention in any canon about Kaz and BB reuniting post-TPP so I figured they’d probably meet when they were both in FOXHOUND. Despite Kaz purposely avoiding him. Also shh let’s pretend the 90s had nice, almost working prosthetics. Also ssshut up I only had the information wikia gave me.


End file.
